I do it every year – I order more pizza and breadsticks than I should and I sit down with a bag of chips in front of the TV and I start eating at the coin toss and pretty much don’t stop until a Super Bowl Champion has been determined.
Turns out that I am not capable of eating junk for four hours and not feel like the inside of a maggot’s maggoty anus.
But it’s what I do, partially because I’m having a good time, partially because I’m celebrating the only sport I care about, and partially because I’m mourning the upcoming six-month lack of the only sport I care about.
It’s a celebration and a wake!
Which is probably why I felt like death until lunchtime yesterday I didn’t even eat breakfast.(2) But feeling like an undead wad of congealed fat is totally worth it once a year.
Socrates advised that we take everything in moderation.
I like to remember sometimes that that statement includes moderation.
- I knew damn well. And did it anyway. Cuz I am awesome.
- And you don’t get to be my size by skipping meals.